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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723978">The Hemnes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornandroid/pseuds/acornandroid'>acornandroid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bottom Mike, IKEA, IKEA Furniture, Little Bit of Plot?, M/M, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Bill, bill and mike are boring and build ikea furniture and i love it, i feel like i always sneak in a tiny bit of plot to get to the porn?, she galaxy brained this idea, they love each other a lot, this is a valentines day gift fic for my gf, valentines day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:14:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornandroid/pseuds/acornandroid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look me in the eyes and tell me your plan for Valentine’s Day is to get a bottle of wine and build a—what was it again?”<br/>“The Hemnes.”<br/>“What the fuck—”<br/>“It’s a dresser. For the guest room.”<br/>Eddie stared at him for a moment longer, then took a decent drink from his glass and cleared his throat. “A fucking—okay. Your plans are to have nice wine and build an Ikea dresser for your guest room. When did you become a fucking old man?”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>AKA The one where Mike and Bill build the hardest piece of Ikea furniture for Valentine's day and then bone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Hemnes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWarriors/gifts">TheWarriors</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Valentines day to my love! Also happy anniversary! Four years and counting!!! This is for you because we were watching Game Grumps try and build ikea stuff and I said Riche and Eddie would kill each other building ikea furniture and you said Mike and Bill build ikea furniture as a date night then fuck and I couldn't get it out of my head since. </p>
<p>Also no beta or intense editing. We die like men.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re kidding.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie was leveling him with a stare from his seat on the patio. Bill simply raised an eyebrow- because he thought he had sounded pretty serious. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No?” He crossed one leg over the other, glancing back at his best friend. “That’s really what we’re doing.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude. If you don’t want to go out with Richie and I then just say no it’s not gonna hurt my feelings— it was Bev’s idea we do a group Valentines thing anyways—“ Eddie started in with the tone of voice that warned of an eminent rant. Or that he was assuming things. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What— no. It <em>would </em>be fun, Mike and I would <em>love </em>to go but we’ve got plans.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bullshit plans.” Eddie gestured his wine glass in Bill’s direction, “Literal bullshit. No one does <em>that</em> for Valentines.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We do! Why is it so hard to believe!” Bill gave an exasperated laugh, sitting forward in his seat.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look me in the eyes and tell me your plan for <em>Valentine’s Day</em> is to get a bottle of wine and build a—what was it again?”</p>
<p>“The Hemnes.”</p>
<p>“What the fuck—”</p>
<p>“It’s a dresser. For the guest room.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie stared at him for a moment longer, then took a decent drink from his glass and cleared his throat. “A fucking—okay. Your plans are to have nice wine and build an <em>Ikea dresser</em> for your <em>guest room</em>. When did you become a fucking old man?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill was slow to the draw when it came to comebacks and Eddie. He was nowhere near the speed at which his best friend would talk to Richie. Sometimes he had a hard time keeping up just listening to them. He also blamed years of speech therapy, slowing down and forming his words to not trip over them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Probably about the same time you did.” Bill shot back, folding his arms over his chest and settling back into his chair. He heard Mike laugh across the yard, glancing over to see his boyfriend toss his head back and grin brightly at something Richie had said. “Didn’t you throw your back out last week?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck you. We’re not talking about my back.” Eddie wrinkled his nose, “And I didn’t <em>throw </em>it out—I just twinge’d it. Richie is the one who keeps fucking up all his shit doing dumb stuff.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Twinge’d it then. We’re all getting old anyways. Except Bev.” Bill was finding it hard to look away from Mike at the moment. It was just something about seeing him like this- in his element in their backyard with all their friends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It put him at ease.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie followed his gaze, then made a little bit of a face before looking back at Bill. “You’re hopeless.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So are you.” Bill shot back after a moment, raising a brow and glancing at his friend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That earned a snort into his wineglass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not.” Eddie said, “But Richie is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow.” Mike said, staring at the separated pieces spread out across the hardwood floor as he held Bill’s glass out to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yup.” Bill popped the word off of his lips, the forty-page picture book of instructions open in front of him and a calculated look on his face. He reached up and took the glass, calmly taking a drink before setting it down on the floor beside him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s a lot of pieces.” The former librarian sat down at his side, his thigh brushing against Bill’s in a way that sent pleasant warmth blossoming through him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yup.” Bill echoed, same as before. He steepled his fingers and pressed them against his nose, as if already assembling the piece of furniture in his mind. Apparently, that was a good thing to do- because Mike laughed, leaned over, and pressed a kiss against the side of his head. Bill’s face remained pinched in concentration.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They fell into the task easily. He and Mike simply <em>worked </em>together, they always had. With the fog clearing on the memories of his patchy childhood Bill found himself remembering things about Mike the most, especially in their later teen years.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He supposed that was a given for most of the Losers—Ben remembered mostly things about Beverly, Richie remembered mostly things about Eddie—and Bill, well—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There were a lot of things he had been sad to forget. Moments spent at Mike’s, watching the other boy read, or even listening to him read to him. Mike who would patiently listen to Bill’s stories through his stutter, who encouraged him and set his drive even higher.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill remembered listening in turn, watching Mike work and hearing all his ideas of what he was going to do when he got out of Derry. All the places he was going to go and things he was going to see.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then he stayed stagnate after they all had left and Bill couldn’t help but feel a small spike of guilt in his pulse from that every now and again. It may not have been directly his fault, but some part of him felt responsible for Mike’s happiness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It may have taken nearly thirty years, but he understood why now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…It goes this way—that’s upside down.” Mike was saying in a quiet, low voice by his ear.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, like the correct way to assemble this cheap dresser. Bill found himself smiling, correcting the position of the side plank.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here—hold it please.” Bill got to his feet while Mike stayed where he was, allowing his boyfriend to hold the piece up as Bill began to screw it in. Mike was watching him closely, he knew it. It was hard to shake the weight of his gaze—and Bill loved it. Mike watched him like he couldn’t get enough of him—and in the right moment he watched him as if he were undressing him with his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He loved this man.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The silence was comfortable—soft music playing in the background the Bill had left on in the other room. Their house was neat, and usually stayed that way. It helped that they weren’t home often, Mike often out on his trips and Bill tended to remain in his office for hours on end if he wasn’t currently on an adventure with his boyfriend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Realization dawned on him slowly as it did most nights spent with Mike like this—that Bill was completely comfortable in the silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t his rocky marriage with Audra, where he wasn’t quite sure what quiet meant and he himself was not as talkative either. There was a silent understanding that each of them just enjoyed the other’s company. They enjoyed problem solving and working together—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And somehow build one of the drawers completely inside out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They sat back—laughed about it—and Mike reached over to pull the instructions closer to himself to study the illustrations.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It wouldn’t be so hard to put words in these things.” Mike murmured, his hand resting on Bill’s thigh and rubbing small circles with his thumb as he thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah but then we’d lose ha—half the fun.” Bill smiled, because Mike’s touch was both distracting and soothing at the same time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A moment’s hesitation dawned on him, drawn to the surface by the temptation to over think Eddie’s observation a few days previous. Bill’s brain liked to overthink things, to bring up small memories and moments to fuss over silently and play again and again in his mind to figure out where he had so obviously stepped out of place—or where he was <em>going </em>to step out of place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For as impulsive as he could be, there were moments when he wanted to think everything through in order to do it <em>right</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> “Hey, Mike?” He shifted a little, staring at his boyfriend’s profile as he tried to decipher the drawings like they were an ancient language.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm?”</p>
<p>“You don’t want to be…doing anything else today, do you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The question seemed to draw Mike out of his focus, turning his attention to Bill instead. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s Valentine’s…. you don’t want to... go out or—well Eddie sa—said—”</p>
<p>“Is it about the triple date thing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill blinked once—then twice—then nodded. “Yeah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Rich and Bev said something to me last weekend and I told them we already had plans.” Mike shrugged, a small smile appearing across his lips that could always reassure Bill in the worst of times.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…Thank god.” Bill gave a sudden soft huff of a laugh, reaching up and pushing his reading glasses up onto his head before rubbing at his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You got worried I wasn’t enjoying this, didn’t you?” Mike reached out, fixing Bill’s hair carefully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A little bit.” Bill flicked his head to knock his glasses back down, reaching to take the instructions back only to have Mike pull them away from his grasp. “Hey—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like spending time with you.” Mike started, his voice a little lowered in the small space between them, “And I like doing stuff with you. Listen, I—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill watched him breathe in slowly and let it out, Mike’s broad chest rising and falling with the action. He was completely enamored at the simplest of things, his mind conjuring a million and one ways to describe the man before him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All of them good—more than a few explicit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We could be doing taxes for Valentine’s Day and I’d be happy.” He continued, his hand now resting on Bill’s leg yet again, “It’s not about what we’re doing or where we are, it’s about us. And us right now is putting this thing in the guest room and figuring it out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have to do our taxes.”</p>
<p>“Yeah I just remembered that too but that’s not what we’re talking about today.” Mike laughed a little, finally leaning forward and kissing him lightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill went with it all too willingly—he did every time Mike kissed him. He leaned forward and closed his eyes, a soft pressure of closed lips pressing firmly back against his own. The tension eased from his body, chasing the soft warmth of Mike’s presence greedily. Bill brought his hand up to cup his cheek, pressing his thumb softly over his smooth skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you. That’s what today is about.” Mike murmured, pressing his forehead to Bill’s and closing his eyes. “Well- today and every other day too. I think that’s the point of dating each other.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill let a soft laugh escape his lips, kissing Mike once more and savoring in the closeness. “Yeah. I love you too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike chased the second kiss and kissed him again—then again—then again—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill brought his hand up to grasp onto the front of Mike’s shirt lightly, the well-worn fabric soft beneath his fingers ad he pressed closer still. Mike had his hand in his hair, holding tight as the kiss deepened and grew into something more than just a simple peck. Bill licking his way into his boyfriend’s mouth and giving a full body shudder when Mike sucked on his tongue playfully in return.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They parted, if only for just a moment, in order for Mike to reach up and carefully remove the reading glasses from Bill’s face and place them somewhere onto the stacked pile of particle board beside them. He leaned back in, cupping Bill’s face between both his hands and kissing him eagerly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Building cheap bedroom furniture on Valentine’s wasn’t something most couples did—but Bill and Mike were aware they weren’t <em>most couples</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Most couples didn’t have forgotten years between them—or a killer space clown—or scars on their palms branding them for life in a blood oath, long faded but still remembered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What most couples <em>did </em>have though- according to mass media and stereotypes—was sex on Valentine’s Day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That seemed to be a given.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill pushed at Mike’s chest lightly, humming softly into his mouth when he got the hint and eased back, allowing Bill to clamber on top of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a little awkward- they weren’t in their twenties, but they made it work with a little bit of fumbling and laughing into one another’s mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He ended up slotted between Mike’s legs, spread out on the floor. There were a few ‘ow’s and ‘wait’s involved- one of which ended with a stray screw jabbing into Mike’s spine and a corner of particle board stabbing into Bill’s shoulder, but they eventually got there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had his hand under Mike’s shirt, exploring his abdomen and taking his time, enjoying how the skin jumped beneath his fingers as he drifted his touch lower lightly. There was certainly something to be said about the sounds that Mike made, how easily they fit together in a way that allowed Bill to take him apart with his hands alone, piece by piece and minute by minute.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike had pushed the flannel off of Bill’s shoulders shortly after they had eased to the carpeted floor. His hands were tracing up and down his spine, occasionally dipping underneath the waist band of Bill’s jeans and grabbing at his ass. It was a comfortable familiar rhythm, one that neither of them would ever tire of.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill almost knocked over the wine glass, but Mike somehow caught it at the last minute.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nipped at Bill’s lower lip, laughing and holding the stem of the glass carefully. “Here—move it. I’d rather be cleaning up after something else instead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill felt his cheeks heat up, catching Mike’s lips once more in a kiss before drawing away. He got to his feet and stretched slightly with a hand on the small of his back. They had been at a weird angle on the floor- it was hard not to feel a little stiff, but Bill didn’t mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he turned back around Mike was sitting up, watching him. Bill smiled slowly, holding out his hand to pull the other man to his feet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They fell back into it again, a steady smooth glide of their lips. Mike’s arms were wound tightly around him, and Bill’s around him in turn.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was another opportunity- a new angle to rid themselves of their shirts and for Bill to eagerly push down Mike’s jeans, trying to push his boyfriend back towards the guest bed with a laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill settled his weight back on top of him, humming in soft delight when the other man all but melted beneath him. He kissed him long and hot, pinning Mike’s wrists to the plush of the bedspread and relishing in how he arched his back to get impossibly closer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait—I have—” Mike tried to mutter between kisses, finally breaking away from Bill’s insistent lips. “In my pocket—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill broke away, glancing at where he had left Mike’s jeans on the floor briefly. It didn’t take long to spot the bottle of lube sticking out of the front pocket at an odd angle from where they had thrown it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He couldn’t help but laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You came prepared.” Bill said, looking back down at his husband beneath him. He angled his hips purposefully, grinding down against him and listening to the moan it drew from Mike’s breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, I did. We were building furniture.”</p>
<p>“Building furniture makes you horny. I’ll remember that for later.” Bill laughed, pulling away a little more- just enough to lean over and grab the bottle off of the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well—its more <em>you </em>doing anything that does it.” Mike continued, tugging at Bill’s own jeans to try and pull them off a little more. They had already gotten them unfastened at some point in time anyways. “Also, the Hemnes is pretty sexy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He couldn’t help but chuckle, tugging Mike’s boxers down and settling between his legs again. Bill pushed them apart almost reverently, looking his boyfriend up and down with little to no shame.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In intimate moments like this, raw and just between the two of them, Bill looked at Mike openly with admiration and attraction. True, he normally looked at him like that- because he loved him- but something about times like this with little to no barrier between them. Skin to skin and heart to heart- the way Bill looked at him was absolutely charged with pure energy. It made Mike shudder and feel warmth blossom across his entire being in ways he had never experienced before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It made Mike feel wanted—and Mike wanted Bill to know how mutual the feeling was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The gasp that slipped from his kiss swollen lips seared itself into Bill’s mind with all the others. Mike always made such beautiful sounds when Bill fingered him—honestly, he could spend all day doing it. He hadn’t been <em>this </em>attracted to someone before—but Mike was <em>Mike </em>and that was all he needed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike bit his lower lip hard, his back arching and face knit into a pinched expression of bliss ad Bill worked him open excruciatingly slow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Neither of them was in a rush, this was their own home—it was their own place to do what they wished and at what pace they desired.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Bill finally pushed into him—Mike’s legs locked high up around his waist and strong hands gripping his shoulders tightly—he was certain he was going to see stars for a moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Every time with Mike felt like the first time- in their shared breaths and their fumbling. Sweet little ways that left their mark across his mental map of his lover’s body and habits. The sparks when they kissed and the sweet sappiness of it all. The slow, hot sex with both of them completely lost in one another. Bill’s way to take Mike apart with his actions when words failed him, watching the other man crumble in the blanket of security that was their relationship. Safe in thought and feeling—in mutual understanding and a way that they just <em>worked</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With each thrust—each moan and each sigh, Bill could see his present and his future with Mike. Everything from when they were kids and beyond. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with this man- this man with the bright mind and big heart. The one who studied everything he could get his hands on and mapped out entire trips around the globe with the intent of <em>actually </em>going.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man who, Bill realized with a giddy burst of schoolboy emotion, Bill had pretty much fucked in five of the seven continents. They had yet to figure out a trip to Antarctica, and Australia was next on the list of month-long excursions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike tugged on him, pulling Bill down a little more until their lips met. It was a sloppy kiss, but worth it in every aspect.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill managed to get his hand between them, wrapping his hand around Mike’s neglected cock and stroking him firmly, trying to match his time with each thrust he gave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Mike came Bill followed shortly after—the sensation of Mike’s hot breath against his mouth and the feeling of him clenching up around him was all too much. He chased Mike over the edge—he would chase Mike <em>anywhere</em> if it meant feeling like this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They laid there for a moment, trying to catch their breath and enjoying the softness of the afterglow. Mike’s hand was tracing lazy patterns against Bill’s spine, and Bill was listening to the fluttering of Mike’s heart in his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike pressed a kiss to the top of his head, both his arms settling a comfortable weight around Bill’s body and holding him close.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…I love you.” Bill breathed, pleasantly sleepy and in a slight haze. He usually was after sex; it was just a given.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you too.” Mike’s voice was a low rumble in his chest, his entire body warm and flush beneath Bill’s.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…We should probably finish the Hemnes.” Bill murmured; his eyes closed.</p>
<p>“Yeah…”</p>
<p>“And do our taxes….”</p>
<p>“Yeah…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike sighed, and Bill snuggled in closer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…Or we could go again after we finish it.” Mike said after a moments silence had passed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill laughed, looking up at him. “I’m writing a personal thank you note to Ikea.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm @acornandroid on Twitter </p>
<p>Bottom!Mike rights</p></blockquote></div></div>
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